As thick as blood we embrace
by Cruelest Silence
Summary: "You should have felt his lungs expanding in your lungs, matching his every breath with your own. You should have heard the rope creaking on the wet bark. You should have felt his skin pebbling with goose bumps as he shivered in the rain. And most of all, you should have tasted the rain, as the rain tasted of his fear."


The burning was insatiable; bones curling in on themselves, veins on fire as they stretched and stretched to accommodate. Muscles flexed in agony, pushing past the tight fists of cramps as they lengthened and grew in size. The tattoo of a heartbeat thudded headily like a wild, caged animal that was dying to jump out of the muscled chest that confined it. In fact, the same was happening to the man it belonged to at that current point in time, the difference? It was his own body thrumming and thrumming and stretching and lengthening and _breaking _as the beast inside broke the human exterior. Mottled green and grey eyes gave way to gold, but then in a quick blink of pain, they shifted to a smearing of red that like a watercolor; would run across white paper with vengeance. A final pulse of energy danced across his pain slicked skin and then, _he _was free.

**.:.**

"Scott? Are you sure this is really necessary?" Stiles asked his long time best friend as he laid on his back on the leaves and dirt floor of the forest with a thick rope binding his feet together, "I mean, I don't wanna, you know, doubt your intelligence, but uh, no offense, you aren't the sharpest tool in the shed. Usually your plans backfire into a 'fuck-stiles-I'm-going-to-shoot-an-arrow-in-the-air-and-we'll-see-who-dances-better' kind of situation."

"Oh stop it, clearly my lack of intelligence must mean that I'm going to tie you up lose so that you fall on that big head of yours. Seriously, don't threaten me, I don't think you're in the right position to talk shit," Scott replied with a smirk, his full lips twisting to the right.

Stiles rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest like he was some damsel in distress that just took her last breath. He gave a short exhale and then closed his eyes, slightly wincing in the preparation of his impending doom.

Scott arched an eyebrow at his best friend's antics, and then shook his head. "God Stiles, you act like your at the gates of hell and Hades just swooned you to death. Get it? Death? Haha. No but seriously, it's going to be okay," Scott's black eyebrows rose on his russet colored face as he didn't get a response.

"Well then, I believe I bested the best at his own shit talking game" he said dryly, before he grabbed the thick rope with his bare hands and started pulling.

"Oh the days of our lives!" Stiles stated whimsically as his face contorted into something akin to sarcasm as every pull of the rope pulled him across the twig covered grass.

A few winces later.

"You know Scott, if you wanted to give my back a facial, you DIDN'T HAVE TO DRAG ME ACROSS THE BLOODY GROUND, which you know, IS BASICALLY GIVING THEM PERMISSION TO MAKE ME INTO A TREE TRUNK FOR THEY BRANCHY SELVES!" Stiles ground out as his legs and ass finally lifted into the air, however the same couldn't be said for his torso, "I love nature, don't get me wrong, but damn! Being a tree isn't exactly on my to-do-list, well, except when I was in that play when I was five, but still! One times too many Scott, one times too many!"

"Damn it Stiles! Quit wiggling!" Scott yelled as Stiles was doing a fucked up version of…the worm?

"Stiles! What the fuck are you doing?" he asked as Stiles started swinging his torso in circles, bracing himself on the back of his head.

"Look Scott! I'm break dancing!" Stiles laughed as he swung around, and around and around.

With a final heft, Stiles was finally dangling in the air, his body swinging around like he was having the time of his life.

Stiles abruptly stopped moving and let his body stop momentum, "You know? I think I feel violated. I feel like I am a slab of meat. God damn! What is with you werewolves and meat man? I feel like I'm bleeding out on the butchers hook. I'm fucking offended! Wait. Wait. Are you calling me fat?! Am I doomed to end up a bled out heifer for the pack to munch on?! Well, on the bright side, I'd make some good jerky cause I'm pretty muscular-"

"Stiles!" Scott barked, "Just shhhhh. Okay? It'll all be over soon."

"Well excuse me! I don't exactly see you strung up by your ankles, hanging from some god forsaken tree like some fucking pork steak werewolf Scooby snack!" Stiles shot back, he opened his mouth to say more but decisively shut his mouth with an audible click and a huff.

"You're not a damn Scooby snack, but Derek wanted someone human to be bait because the pack have that attachment to each other and it would make the training run too easy," Scott explained as though explaining physics to a stoner, "And obviously! You're the only human that would let themselves be demeaned like this. You try asking Lydia or Jackson. Haha. NOT."

"Before I get the fuck out of dodge, where's that powder that you stole from the storage unit at the sheriff's office?" Scott asked as he finished tying the end of the rope to the base of the tree.

"It's in the only bag I brought," Stiles deadpanned as he wiggled a bit to turn and face Scott. Scott made a 'ugh' face and walked over to the black backpack that Stiles had earlier wedged in the v of the tree. He pulled out a Ziploc bag full of white powder and an old looking duster.

"Where the fuck did you find this Harry Potter? Your grandmas closet under the stairs?" Scott teased as he opened the Ziploc bag and poured a bit into the tip of it. "Shit, we could so sell this as some high end coke," Scott joked as the white powder clouded in the air around them.

"Oh yeah, so then we can get our asses beat when they find out it's actually meant for Marine's so that when they're hiding in the wilderness, they lay it down so that it confuses and desensitizes the search dogs noses and lasts for days. The dumb ass kids would probably go to the hospital thinking their brains were melting or some shit after they lost their sense of smell and accuse us of trying to kill them. Thanks but I'm not trying to get locked up in my dads cell for the rest of my life," Stiles said as he let his arms fall downwards and then proceeded to wiggle around with a 'whooooooooooooo' like some tribal ass mother fucker calling out a war cry.

"Alright dude, be good. Try not to get eaten," Scott laughed as he loped off into the forest, which of course, had started to settle into dusk. After he had gotten some distance away, he would dust three different perimeters around Stiles so that if the wolves got close, it would throw them off by a good hundred plus yards.

"Alright man! Check ya' later," Stiles started but kind of faded off as he finally realized he was alone.

Tendrils of darkness started to snake into the pockets of trees, the sun setting seemingly faster and faster.

"Fucking head rush," Stiles mumbled as he reached up to massage his temples, "I hope these fucking wolves pick their pace up."

Topaz eyes dilated as darkness finally embraced Stiles' proximity; the realization that he was going to be alone in the dark slowly sank in, causing him to wrap his arms around himself. He shivered softly as he closed his eyes and focused on slow, quiet breaths, trying not to let his mind wander to the possible monsters lurking in the trees around him. After falling in a trance-like state, Stiles opened his eyes and realized that a good chunk of time had already passed. Just how long was he going to have to hang there?

A slight breeze danced around Stiles' prone form, kissing his pale skin in a malicious promise. 'Should have brought a fucking jacket,' Stiles thought to himself as he shivered harder and then came the sprinkles of rain.

"Fuckkk," Stiles moaned, as the cool breeze carried the tiny particles of rain with each soft caress, the humidity making him become slightly sticky yet cold at the same time.

Stiles froze as he heard a low howl echo around the trees somewhere in front of him, making him force his breaths and heart beat to be quiet and steady. 'Man, the rain had to have washed that powder away. Or is it waterproof?' he mused to himself as the mist slowly turned into a slow shower.

Stiles' pinkened skin rose into goosebumps as he suddenly felt energy enter the area around him. He gulped slightly as he wiggled to turn his body around, his eyes widening as he saw red eyes peering through the darkness. Steam rose off of his body and the heat from the ground and trees let off a low sitting fog, soon to enshroud him in a grey cocoon. He tried to calm himself, but soon he felt the tendrils of fear creep into his mind, his body now shivering for a different reason.

'Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck,' he chanted to himself as he heard distant snarls and whines and crunching of underbrush not too far from where he was hanging. A howl rang out, and then he heard the low drumming of a running creature. Then two.

Snarls and whimpers and snapping teeth echoed off the trees around him, and then two figures emerged from the fog. The long fingers of Isaac's hands were tangled in the startling blonde of Erica's hair as he then used it as leverage to whip her into a tree. Isaac's lips were parted in a snarl, tiny flecks of saliva shooting past his lips with every heaving breath he took. His arms on each side reached out with every other stride of the opposite leg, his body straining to reach Stiles first.

Suddenly Erica was on his back, her teeth clamping down on his left shoulder as she twisted her body to the right so she could make him rear up and stumble away from his direct line towards Stiles.

As Erica and Isaac slammed into the ground, Boyd's tall, muscled frame leapt over them and landed in a crouch with one hand pressed on the ground in front of him. He lunged forward on all fours towards Stiles and all he could think of was, 'Damn, that powder was supposed to work on dogs, but then again, they weren't exactly the Lassie type either.'

Boyd lunged up, claws extended as though he planned to slice the rope but another form slammed into him. Stiles gulped, he felt like a worm dangling on a hook…or maybe a sausage link…no, definitely a bratwurst.

He swayed six feet over the ground from his ankles, his hands hanging limply down. As he swayed, he started to turn and then he was face to face with a snarling, muscled beast with crimson eyes and a taunt face. He was face to face with the alpha.

Stiles swallowed hard, but then smirked, "You look like a rabid gorilla from this angle," he then chortled…all the way to the ground.

Or so he thought, at the last second he jerked to a halt, his fingers grazing the leaves on the ground, "Owwwww," Stiles groaned, the rope further chafing his ankles, "fucker."

Right before his eyes the alpha took a shuddering sigh and then his body was shifting. In place of the thick, black hair came smooth, sweat slick skin, fangs shrank into dull human ones. As inklings of green slowly overtook the red, a sculpted face settled into perfection.

Stiles braced himself as he expected impact with the ground, but was surprised as he was lowered down in increments.

"I don't need the sheriff's son having an aneurism," he stated in his gravelly tone as though rectifying his actions.

Stiles grimaced as the blood started rushing back to his head, "Steady your breathing and heartbeat," the alpha added as he watched Stiles feel the pain.

"Next time, I vote Lydia," he mumbled as he was finally allowed to lie on his back. He opened eyes that he didn't even know he had shut and found Scott leaning over him with a smile tugging at his lips.

"Evening partner, enjoy hanging out with us this fine night?" Scott quipped with a smirk. Stiles reached up and swatted at Scotts annoying face, which of course he missed as Scott danced away. Stiles turned his attention to the rest of the pack, chuckling s Erica and Isaac came into view in the fog, shoving each other and snarling.

"I fucking had it," Isaac growled, snapping at Erica's finger as she flicked him on the nose, "You wish. I was going easy on you, in fact, your ass got so confused, I practically led you here. Obviously you can't smell shit," she said gloatingly, her eyes seeking approval from her alpha.

"Actually, if Derek hadn't stopped me, I would have won," chimed Boyd's deep voice as he watched the two bicker and nip at each others necks like some velociraptors.

"You were all too loud for one thing. And you have to expand your senses, not just your nose," Derek said pointedly at Isaac, who whined and cast his gaze down.

"You should have felt in your chest-his heart beat," he said as he reached down and placed his fingers on Stiles' heart above his black shirt, "Your heart should have matched his."

"You should have felt his lungs expanding in your lungs, matching his every breath with your own. You should have heard the rope creaking on the wet bark. You should have felt his skin pebbling with goose bumps as he shivered in the rain. And most of all, you should have tasted the rain, as the rain tasted of his fear."

Derek stood back up and faced his pack, "You all did better than expected. But in a real life situation, we wouldn't be standing here discussing the outcome; we would be smelling a dead body or a hurt person whom would probably mean something to us. People don't just want to hurt one of us; they want to hurt the whole pack."

As Derek spoke, Stiles looked at the loose basketball shorts that clung to muscled hips. How did Derek manage to Alpha out without completely losing them?

Stiles finally sat up, trying to ignore the pulse that seemed to make his head explode with every beat. Noticing that the pack was watching him, Stiles sucked it up and stood up, instantly regretting it as he stumbled via loss of equilibrium.

Stiles splayed his hands out and bent his knees like he was a pro surfer, "Chill out dude, I got this," he said to Scott whom immediately wanted to rush to his aid and catch him if he stumbled.

"Well then, this has been lovely and all, but I think this walking pork chop is going home before daddy pork chop notices I'm missing. Good night!"

"Stiles, are you sure you're alright? I'll come with you if you want," Scott asked with worry, his forehead wrinkling a bit.

"No I'm cool, besides you got to do your wolfie duties, ya know?" he replied as he walked backwards with a slight limp.

"Night all."

A few more steps and the fog enveloped his body.

**.::.**

As Stiles walked away, he noticed that he didn't notice before just how far away he parked his jeep away. Was it by the rock quarry? Or was it by the mangled birch tree? In the daylight, Stiles knew the woods by the back of his hand, but in this fog?

"Maybe I should have parked close-" Stiles started but never finished as he froze.

In front of him stood a broad shouldered figure, unmoving but still shrouded by the fog. Stiles felt the hairs in the back of his neck rise and that was all he needed before he turned and bolted back towards the area that the pack had been last.

He didn't make it very far before he felt his body rush to the ground. The breath was knocked from his lungs as his cheek slammed into the ground and _Fuck_, that hurt. His palms pushed hard into the leaves and twigs as he tried to scramble up but he was quickly slammed back down. A heavy weight settled onto his back as a large hand covered the back of his head and shoved his face harder and harder into the ground. The twigs were embedding themselves into the soft skin of his cheek and as he started to panic all he could think of was the smell of the wet earth that wrapped him in the false sense of security. The hand holding the back of his head slid up through his hair and long fingers slid down his forehead. Stiles winced as his head was pulled back, his hands sliding forward to push his body up as his neck strained hard from the angle.

"My dad is the sheri-" Stiles started, trying to bypass all of the clichés of 'who are you,' and 'what do you want,' but he quickly found out that he should just stay silent as he felt the sharp tang of a knife trailing down the column of his throat and the deep rumble of a males voice in his ear.

"Do you have any idea, how it would be for your father to come looking for you and find your broken body bleeding out all over the forest floor? Could you imagine him no longer having dreams of his dead wife, but dreaming of his son's body all but forgotten, your eyes wide open, but not really seeing? But maybe he would dream that your eyes should have been open…if only some animal hadn't torn them from their sockets in an opportunistic feeding."

The knife at Stiles' throat pressed that much harder, the tang turned into a sting. The tattoo of his heartbeat thudded mercilessly throughout his entire body. But that didn't stop him from picking up on the sound of his skin splitting so easily for the blade.

"Come on, visualize with me. You're killing your dad so slowly, lying to him about everything, sneaking around murder scenes, being a dumb ass kid that puts his nose in business that's willing to chew him up and spit him out like a worthless piece of flesh caught annoyingly in between teeth. The more you fuck up, the more you hurt your father, the more years you take from him. I mean, the death of your mother had to have taken away, what? Five? Ten years?"

Stiles felt tears burn his eyes so brutally he couldn't help but scrunch up his whole face, trying to seek some sort of relief.

"I don't know how the fuck you think you know m-" Stiles tried but ended up choking on the lump in his throat. He scrunched up his eyes hard as his mouth opened in a sob that shook his whole body, his whole _being_. The intensity of _agony_ that was coursing through his body rattled him to the core, he couldn't even feel the knife anymore, the physical pain couldn't even compare to the insecurities that were eating him up inside for_ so_ long.

"Not you, not your dad, not even _Derek Hale _can stop fate. Remember that."

Stiles sobbed into the dirt as the hand holding his head slammed him face down and then, a bright flash of white burst across his whole world.

**.::.**

Darkness.

Complete and utter darkness.

The sound of blood swooshing. Heat. Quiet sounds.

"Why isn't he waking up?"

"Scott, listen. His heart beat is picking up. He's about to wake up."

"He could be having a nightmare or fucking about to have heart failure Derek! What if he has a concussion?"

Scott? Derek? Their voices rose and rose as they argued and _fuck _if they weren't just making the dull roar of blood in his ears magnify.

"Enough," he managed to croak as his face contorted into pain, it felt like his head was being squeezed in the vice grip of God's fucking hand.

"What the fuck…how did I get here?" Stiles asked as he cradled his forehead with an open palm. The muscles in his abdomen clenched as he tried to stiffly sit up but the moment his head moved a blow of pain rippled from the back of his head to his forehead.

"Fuck," he cursed in a half-whimper, his body rolling to the side on the cold concrete as he clenched his head hard, trying to use pressure to make the pain go away.

"Stiles, you have to relax. The more you get worked up, the more it's going to hurt," Derek stated with slight patience.

"Scott, run home and see if your mother has anything for severe migraines and anything pain relieving that's pm, so it'll help him fall asleep and stay asleep. I think that it's safe to say that out of anyone here your mom would have them," Derek said as he looked around at his pack.

Scott looked torn, his body seeming to fold in on itself as he hunched protectively over Stiles, who was rolling slightly side to side with his head still in his hands. Derek turned to Isaac and motioned down to Stiles, "Try and help him relax while Scott's gone."

"But he doesn't even like Stiles!" Scott spat out defiantly, his own hand coming down to soothe up and down Stiles' back.

"At this point, he doesn't have a say so, now does he? Now go," Derek commanded quietly, the grey in his eyes darkening with authority.

"I don't want fucking _Isaac_ to fucking touch him," Scott snarled, his body moving so that he was hiding Stiles from the packs view.

"Fine, I'll deal with the fucking kid, go!" Derek hissed impatiently as he stepped towards Stiles, which only made Scott growl louder.

"Jesus, I'm not going to hurt him, I'm going to help him relax," Derek reassured exasperatedly as he crouched down near Stiles' back. He looked at Scott with wide mocking eyes and then pointed in the direction of the warehouse's entrance. Scott looked down at Stiles who was turning red and shaking with the pain, so he nodded and then took off to get the medicine.

**.::.**

Green grey eyes scanned the body of the shaking teenager, his nose flaring as the scent of pain threatened to make him recoil. He visibly hesitated, not liking just how uncomfortable he became with the thought of actually touching someone in a comforting manor. He deliberately avoided glancing over at his pack, because he was already painfully aware that his pack could already smell his discomfort. He cracked his neck, a universal sign that he was feeling awkward and trying to get over it. He sighed forcefully and then he reached out over Stiles' hip and let it hover there for a second. His long fingers slightly trembled before he lightly made contact with Stiles' damp shirt. He almost recoiled, but then he decisively ran his hand up Stiles' side and then ran it over his stomach so that he could encourage him onto his back and out of the ball that he had rolled himself up into.

"Turn over," Derek asked lightly, trying to keep things simple so that he could get this over as quickly as possible. He applied a bit more pressure with his hand and was honestly amazed with how easily Stiles listened to him and rolled onto his back. His pack gave him so much shit, it honestly gave him hope.

Derek settled down onto one knee and this time ran both hands up Stiles' biceps and gently encouraged him to drop them down and let his hands rest on the concrete above him.

"Just relax. The more pressure you exert on your head, the more it's going to hurt," he explained as he watched Stiles breathe in deep, and then slowly, the pinched look on his face simply dissolved.

"Good," Derek encouraged and then with slightly trembling hands he reached up and gently massaged circles into Stiles' temples. Tendrils of Scotts scent came into the vicinity, and Derek estimated that he would be there in ten minutes.

The distraction of Scott found Derek looking across the warehouse to where his pack was. It was a simple set up really. The single floor warehouse was divided up into 9 sections, the biggest section; which they were in now, was the living space. There were a few couches, recliners, and love seats situated in front of an old school 60+inch tube television. To the right there were metal double doors that lead to the rest of the sections that consisted of the makeshift kitchen and dining room, a large sparring room, a supply storage room and then everyone's individual rooms. Even though Erica and Boyd had their families, they were still sometimes found staying the night if the days training with the Alpha left too big of slow healing injuries that their parents would probably find suspicious. This warehouse was just temporary housing however, because renovation to the other house was going to be started slowly.

Isaac and Boyd were sitting on one of the two couches, playing video games on the TV while Erica had disappeared, presumably doing whatever females do in their alone time. The main rooms however didn't have access to electricity because the small generator that Derek had rigged up only powered so much. Derek heard the light footsteps of Scott rushing in, and then a water bottle and a bag full of pills were dangled in his perifs.

"Is it really that difficult to read, Scott?" Derek asked in exasperation as he grabbed the bag of pills and started going through it. Some of the items however weren't even meant for headaches.

"Amoxicillin? Blood clotters? Gauze? Medical staples and thread? Why?" Derek questioned as he took the proper bottles from the Ziploc bag and dispensed a few of each into his hand.

"I figured that since Stiles is going to be around the pack a lot, that we should start keeping human medicine and first aid around for him. I mean, we can't just send him home to the sheriff if something happens that we can't exactly prevent."

Derek hummed to show that he was listening but to be honest, he was almost proud of how much Scott cared for his best friend and how he was trying to incorporate Stiles into the pack.

"Scott, go behind Stiles so that he can take these pills," Derek asked as he opened up the bottle of water.

Scott quickly moved over to Stiles' head and gently lifted his shoulders off the ground and then carefully scooted under him so that his body was resting against Scott's. Scott winced as Stiles' face pinched up with every soft jostling that Scott was doing but he didn't vocally complain. Derek reached out and held the pills over Stiles' mouth and when Stiles opened his mouth, he dropped them in. Then he slowly let water stream into Stiles' mouth as he held the water bottle up. Satisfied with the amount of water in his mouth, he set the water bottle down on the ground and let Stiles relax.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to swallow pills when it feels like you're about to throw up?" Stiles whispered, his eyes closed as he waited almost patiently for anything to happen.

"I think he has a concussion. We should take him to the hospital," Scott said quietly, looking at Derek as though his word meant everything to him.

"No, I'll keep him here. I can monitor him through the night and if anything bad happens, I can take him straight to your mom. You don't have a car," Derek replied logically, and judging by the bug-eyed expression of Scott, he was about to throw a tantrum.

"I'll take care of your best friend, I promise."

"Can you two stop talking about me like I'm not even here? I mean, I know I barely count as a vote being all ko'd and shit but damn," Stiles in all honesty though was full of love for his best friend. They'd been best friends for so long and even though he had Allison, Scott had never let him down.

"As long as Erica doesn't suffocate me in my sleep tonight, I'll stay here, Derek for once, is making sense," Stiles said half-assed, jumping as he realized just how close the alpha was to him.

Derek rolled his eyes and then stood up, "Follow me."

**.::.**

After much pleading from Scott to let him help Stiles, Stiles found himself shuffling down the hall after Derek by himself. I mean, he'd been walking for 17 years of his life, why was today any different? The hall seemed to get longer and longer however and Stiles found just how difficult it was to keep moving his feet.

"How much farther?" Stiles yawned, his eyelids becoming that much heavier.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed as he tripped on something 'jutting' out from the floor, but before he could fully even start to fall, Derek was there, gripping his forearm in a vice that was perhaps a little tighter than it should have.

"Its right here," Derek said mildly, his green grey eyes looking at the ground as though he was trying to decipher what Stiles had tripped on.

"You won't find anything, knowing me, I probably tripped on flat ground," Stiles mentioned, his eyes already peering into the darkness of the room to the right of them.

"Hn."

Was Stiles' only reply before he was being ushered into said darkness. Stiles was left standing there as Derek wandered into the room, probably looking for the light or something.

"Come toward my voice," came Derek's voice from within the room, a room that was still dark.

"Are you kidding me? I don't think I need to hit my head any more thank you very much," Stiles retorted, but still, he moved forward.

He however did not expect to run into the hot furnace that was Derek Hale.

Stiles flailed a bit, moaning as his head swam with pain.

"Jeez, can't you give a guy a little warning?" Stiles mumbled as Derek put a hand to the small of his back and urged him forward.

"Keep going," Derek said, completely ignoring Stiles' little stab at humor. But in all honesty, Derek's hand was trembling. Trembling because he was touching another human being without cause. Trembling because there was another person in his room, with the _last _bit of possessions that he held so dear. The things in this room were _everything _to him and no one was allowed to be a part of that. But here was this clumsy, kind-hearted, human _boy _stumbling towards his bed, where his scent would soon join Derek's. His scent was going to thoroughly saturate his sheets, his pillows, his comforter, his fucking _walls_. And yet he continued forward, warning Stiles when his knees were about to come into contact with the edge of the bed.

He watched as Stiles leaned down and grazed his fingers across the cool sheets, and Derek marveled at the simplicity of it. Sometimes he forgot how _simple _human senses were. So easily he could see in the dark, so easily he could scent the decaying bark of the forest from miles away if he really concentrated. He could hear the sweet touch of lips from across a busy room. He could _feel _fear, sadness and happiness without having to look at the person to see the emotion on their face and actions. But then, he realized just how much he'd forgotten what it was like to be human. He watched Stiles turn and sit on the bed, kicking off his shoes and socks. He sat there staring into the dark, blindly looking around the dark room, not being able to see, yet Derek could see everything down to the thick eyelashes that brushed Stiles' cheeks every time he blinked.

"Sorry that there's no light, this place is just temporary until I get my house started," Derek explained, "I could light a few candles if you wish."

Stiles laughed, "Oh dear god, please don't. There's no need to make it seem like you're going to deflower me via candle light during medieval times cause I already feel like a fair maiden being visually molested in the darkness."

"What happened tonight?" Derek asked abruptly, moving back from the bed as he awaited an answer.

"Just…this guy came at me from nowhere. I didn't see him in the fog and I, you know, couldn't have sensed him because I'm human. I tried to run but he threw me down from behind, and then proceeded to hold a knife to my throat. He described to me in detail how I was killing my father slowly and how my father wouldn't be dreaming of his dead wife, but of his dead son after he found my broken body bled out on the forest floor. I'm pretty sure he mentioned something about my eyes being ate out by an opportunistic predator as well. Then for the grand finale he said that you, myself or my father couldn't stop fate. And then I woke up here, well not here here, but you know," Stiles recited with a slight lilt, but Derek could tell that Stiles was trying not to show just how bothered he was.

Derek felt such rage that someone had attacked Stiles, that someone had attacked such a defenseless kid. Whoever had confronted Stiles obviously knew of his past and of his present and that was unsettling to him. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, "I need to pick up his scent, hold still."

Derek moved forward slowly, and then without pause he reached out and lightly set his fingertips on Stiles' chest. He felt Stiles jump, but he kept going regardless of how uncomfortable the atmosphere became. He leaned in and inhaled the scent around his neck, it was stronger there than the one on his torso so he leaned in further and tried to sort through the different scents quickly.

"Blood, forest, sweat. Fear."

That was what had alerted him and Scott that something had happened to begin with.

"Metal."

The scent that the blade pressed against his throat left behind. He moved up higher, now inhaling around Stiles' forehead.

"Latex? Fuck, that's the most obnoxious smell, but it completely covers up scent," Derek cursed, pulling Stiles to his feet by the ever so favored forearm. He moved to the back of Stiles, and smelled his hair. It smelled like sandalwood shampoo and….he nosed against the back and sides of Stiles' neck, "His skin touched you here, most likely a forearm brushing against you as he reached up to yank your head back."

He took in the scents on Stiles' back. There was a soft scent of common soap and detergent and other scents that Stiles had been around, but there was a tinge of something else. Sickness.

"He's suffering from an illness, he smells like chemicals. It's ongoing because it's embedded so deeply in his scent," Derek pressed Stiles back onto the bed and moved towards the doorway.

"I'm going to go and see if I can track him. You were hit hard in the back of your head, so I'm going to have Isaac check in on you. You know what's off limits," Derek said in that ever so hard tone he had, he moved to leave but paused as Stiles made a sound as he lay down like he was going to say something.

"What?"

"Nothing…just sorry if I smelled bad," Stiles replied humorously, changing what he was going to say on a whim.

Derek felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his lips.

"Relax kid, I'll be careful."

And then he was gone.


End file.
